


A Little Idle Talk

by windfallswest



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windfallswest/pseuds/windfallswest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not <i>impossible</i> to keep a secret from a village full of ninja. Unless you live there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Idle Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Title a nod to 'A Little Gossip' in Man of LaMancha. Beta'd by the splendiforous htebazytook, as per usual.

There were two sides, at least, to take into account when considering the issue of ninja privacy.

On the one hand, ninja were secretive by definition. They were more likely to have things in the past they wanted to keep hidden, experiences they didn't want to relive. It was weakness to show hurt. It was vulnerability to let someone else so close. Clan ninja rarely married outside their home clans.

On the other hand, it was hard to keep secrets from ninja. It was their business, after all. An incurious ninja was a dead one, and sooner rather than later. There being of course a distinction between incuriosity and discipline.

One wanted to know as much as possible about one's team-mates, what they could do and what set them off. One was curious about one's teachers. One wanted to hear the stories of the village's heroes.

And stories _were_ told. Some of them. Some things everyone knew because they were village history. Some village history, one only learned by living through it. Some things caused ripples but never floated back to the surface.

Some ninja made efforts to distance themselves from their pasts. Some all but disappeared into ANBU. Some parts of the past, they all tried to efface. Maybe that wasn't the wisest thing: not all history was over and done, as recent events had demonstrated.

Certainly, it was a balance. Or a wheel of some sort, whose equilibrium was fostered by silence. The less one asked, the less one was asked, after all. And vice-versa.

Hatake Kakashi made a point of asking as little as possible. (There were other methods, after all.)

Umino Iruka knew this because he hardly needed to ask anything anymore. His position as an academy instructor kept him in the village almost constantly. He had, by now, established deep roots in the Konoha grapevine.

 

As a matter of fact, Iruka was sitting at that very moment in one of its busiest hubs: the academy teachers' lounge. The small pupils grew into ninja; and all ninja, of course, were one-time pupils. The instructors had ties to _everyone_.

So it was more or less inevitable that, while Iruka was chasing the last grains of rice around his bento box, Kurneai asked him if he'd done anything to deserve Hatake Kakashi's attention.

"Uh, I don't think so?" Iruka replied nervously. She'd sort of _purred_ the question. "Why?"

Kurenai _tch_ ed knowingly and leaned back in her chair. Iruka's eyes narrowed.

"Well, I'd say you have it."

Iruka ran through the list of his recent activities again. Nothing remotely important since the Mizuki incident. "Oh?" He sipped his tea, poker-faced.

Kurenai tipped forward again, one elbow on the table, her irritation at being played less important than the juiciness of her information and her theatrical impulses—they had quite the audience by that point.

"He's been asking about you. Asking _me_ about you."

"So, what did you say?" Iruka asked with all the disinterest in his possession.

Kurenai smiled.

 

In fact, there was hardly a conversation in the village about Iruka at which Kakashi was absent, lately. He started them discreetly, of course, and sat on the edge reading Icha Icha with only half his attention on what was being said.

He'd asked Kurenai outright because he'd had the perfect excuse: Naruto, screaming down the street like a maniac. Also, knowing Kurenai was probably too smart for his tricks. Possibly, her suspicions were aroused anyway. She'd had a funny look on her face.

It wasn't like he had _lied_ , precisely. Just...omitted a few things. Besides, it was none of her business.

 

Patently, Kurenai had other opinions on the subject. Once she brought it to everyone's attention, what seemed like the whole village took it upon themselves to inform Iruka of similar incidents. And, of course, offer advice.

Well, the downside if being so deep in the rumour-mill was that _everyone_ knew him, never mind anyone passing up a chance to gossip about Sharingan Kakashi. Nevertheless, it did seem Kurenai was correct: he had Kakashi's attention.

The most-asked question in the village, from Iruka on out, was what was he going to do with it?

Iruka noticed Kakashi about the normal amount. He was famous, attractive, and didn't make much of an effort to blend in. So Iruka listened to the stories. So maybe he stared at his ass a little, if he was walking by. So what? It was a nice ass. A little scrawny, but nice.

 

All this, Kakashi inferred. Except perhaps the ogling. He was most present in Iruka's life as a subject of Naruto's frequent tirades. Not the best foot. Or, well, the year and a half of mission reports written on blood-splattered napkins and things he'd been turning in to him at the missions desk.

Solid facts were hard to come by. There existed a vast, prudently self-censoring pool of information available to anyone who knew where to ask. But the universal protectiveness of the village gossips towards Iruka was downright scary. Ask one simple question and they bombarded him at the frequency of Chidori.

So he had sensibly decided to take the subtle approach. It was amazing the things you heard when no one thought you were paying attention. Honestly, if he could win battles with most of his attention on porn, what made them think he couldn't eavesdrop?

Mostly, what that got him was an earful about how earnest and dedicated Iruka was. He learned who his friends were, that his favourite tea was Rou Gui, and that he played shougi with Sandaime most afternoons after classes. He didn't seem to have any secrets beyond his mysterious attachment to Naruto. If he did, they were masterfully hidden.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn't any more than he could've found out from a bit of judicious surveillance. Not that he'd know firsthand.

Kakashi perched on an eave, staring at the sun, having just escaped an unexpected onslaught of curiosity in an abruptly vertical manoeuvre. Closing his eye, he let the warm sun bake through his mask while he considered.

So much for covert. Kurenai had probably been a mistake.

Oh, well. This simply called for a change in tactics.

Kakashi flipped open his book again and dropped lightly back to street-level, waiting his opportunity.

"So, Kakashi, what do you...think about Iruka?"

Kakashi's eye smiled brightly. "Maa, I don't really know him, but what I've seen doesn't look bad at all."

The poor girl's jaw almost fell off her face. She probably hadn't been expecting an answer.

Kakashi dropped his coins, picked up his roll, and went back to his book. He'd see what _that_ stirred up.

 

Iruka looked up sharply, the third time he heard twittering. It stopped, but his colleagues continued to exchange knowing looks.

Iruka, who had been grading quizzes while he ate, pushed his chair away from his table and leaned back to address Kurenai sitting at the one behind him. She was helping teach the younger students basic genjutsu techniques this week.

"I get the feeling I'm missing something," he remarked over his shoulder.

Kurenai smirked. "Your highly-trained ninja senses tell you that?"

Iruka rolled his eyes. "Are you still on about Kakashi?"

She shrugged and took a particularly demure sip of tea.

"You suppose we ought to tell him?" one of her seatmates asked.

"I suppose he does deserve to know," someone else drawled.

"Well, then tell him, do," Kurenai suggested with the air of a benevolent goddess.

"Yes. Do." Iruka tried not to look anxious. He'd had two days to try and grouse out why Naruto's famous Sharingan Kakashi had taken an interest in him, with no luck. He'd had it confirmed as well, which made it even more unnerving.

One of the peanut gallery coughed, dropped his feet from the chair they'd been propped on, and sat up straighter. "It, uh, it seems he likes you, Iruka. If you follow me."

Iruka's brain stopped like there was a Nara standing on its shadow.

"Iruka?" Kurenai asked.

"I follow," he replied quellingly. "What makes you say that?"

"He told the baker's girl this morning." The smugness dripped almost visibly off his person. "Said it right there in the middle of everyone."

He was obviously trying not to cackle. Iruka had to admit, it was a rather bewildering picture. It certainly bewildered _him_.

"What did he say, exactly?" Iruka asked, still trying to process the information. _Kakashi?_ Liked _him?_

"Said you were easy on the eyes, like, Iruka," the wise-ass chucked.

Iruka paused, eyes narrowed. Obviously, they needed taking down a peg or two. So it was mostly with that in mind that he spoke next.

"He's not so bad himself," he said.

And that, he decided, was an excellent time to go back to his grading.

 

"So, Kakashi."

Kakashi knew that tone. That was not a safe tone. He turned a page in Icha Icha and watched Anko from the corner of his eye.

"Hnh," he greeted her.

Pushing his book out of the way, Anko leaned in, grinning. "How nice do you want to be to me today?"

 _Well, I'm not killing you right now._ Kakashi bit his tongue.

"Today's special?" Kakashi replied mildly, after sifting through a variety of _wrong_ responses. Well, possibly more-wrong responses.

"Possibly you want to hear what I have to say," Anko said slyly. Kakashi's ears pricked.

"It's about a certain school teacher you've been stalking—"

"I have not—"

"—who likes you back for some unfathomable reason."

Kakashi shut his mouth. "Did he say that?"

"He said he liked looking at you."

"How do you know?"

"I was talking with Kurenai earlier today," she explained. "She teaches genjutsu at the Academy this time of year."

"Hnh. Interesting."

Anko eyed him dangerously.

"Is that all you have to say? _Interesting?_ " Her tone was getting unsafe, too.

Kakashi thought about it and shrugged. "Maybe we'll see more of each other, then."

Raising his book again, Kakashi kicked off backwards and went bounding across the rooftops.

 

Kakashi had first noticed Iruka—really noticed him—a week or so ago, when he'd been on his way to the woods to train alone. He'd taken the route that passed the training grounds, hoping—and he'd deny this if asked—to run across Guy and get in some heavy sparring.

Out the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Iruka, working out before class. Kakashi had stopped to watch.

Iruka's forms were perfect as he performed the kata. Fast, balanced, naturally graceful. His normally smiling face had been smoothed over with concentration. He looked deadly.

It really wasn't surprising, given the requirements for academy instructors. He'd just never thought about Iruka as anything other than the smiling teacher he'd seen in Naruto's orbit or the grammatical nit-picker who gave his reports back with red marks and a—Kakashi had always suspected—slightly sadistic grin.

Ooh, there went the kunai. Very nice.

The Iruka he'd been watching was a solid, professional ninja he'd be glad to have at his back.

Huh.

 

A big, fat drop of rain smacking him in the forehead brought Iruka back to himself. He stopped gaping at Inuzuka Toji, tromba di albenga forgotten in one hand, and turned hastily back to Mr. Kimimoto's stand.

Was Kakashi _actually hitting on him?_ He was tempted to dismiss this rumour as being in the same category with _the entire Aburame clan turn into beetles at night_ and _Kakashi's an evil space-robot underneath that mask!_ But Toji had overheard Anko in a coffee shop, and Anko didn't _go_ to coffee shops unless she wanted to be overheard.

Not that he put it past Anko to be fucking with him, or with the prurient minds of the entire village. It was just slightly less likely she'd be fucking with Kakashi. Without his complicity... This was starting to give him a headache.

"I usually go up to the Hokage monuments in the evenings while there's still light," he told Toji, which Kakashi ought to know very well if he had indeed been sniffing around Iruka, for whatever reason.

"Oookay," Toji replied. Toji was not touted for his subtlety. "See ya."

Iruka shook his head. He realised he was still holding the damned squash.

"Kakashi prefers eggplant, you know," Kimimoto remarked.

Iruka had a sudden urge to bang his head against something painful.

 

"—and then, RAR!" screamed the little girl. "He roared and it was louder than Atsushi's explosion! And his face got all red and he made the three of us clean the _whole room_."

The girl's mother smiled apologetically at him over her spiky head. Kakashi smiled his eye down at the child.

"That's very impressive, miss."

"What's impressive is the fact he hasn't strangled them all yet." Kakashi had hidden Icha Icha behind his back when he'd found himself confronted with a beaming, six-year-old face; but from the mother's expression, she knew _exactly_ what was going on.

"Come on, you little hoyden. You can clean your room next."

"Aww, _mom_..."

Kakashi waved as they moved on. "You can come out now."

A red ember in the shadows coalesced into Asuma. Asuma had beat a hasty retreat when the kid homed in on their Iruka-centric gossip. Well, Asuma's Iruka-centric gossip; Kakashi had been restricting himself to noncommittal grunts.

"Fraidy cat."

Asuma took a drag. "Meow. Or should I say _RAR_? Iruka may want to be found, but are you sure you want to find him?"

"Maa." It was a good spot; hard for eavesdroppers. Kakashi was favourably impressed.

"Remind me, what do you usually do evenings? Friday evenings, for example."

Kakashi gave him a somewhat sour look. Today was Friday.

"I usually eat dinner in the evening," he said in a bored voice which did nothing to quell Asuma's obnoxious grin. Some of his friends were enjoying this far too much.

Of course, Kakashi was starting to as well.

 

It was halfway through their afternoon game if shougi when Iruka decided Sandaime was being so blatant he was no longer obliged to ignore it.

"Go ahead."

"Go ahead and what? It's your move." Sandaime's tone made it clear he was magnanimously ignoring his young subordinate's effrontery, still smirking a little.

"I take it you've heard the rumours. Whatever it is, go ahead and say it."

Sandaime gestured with his pipe. "You going to move before Orochimaru comes back and blasts me into the Great Beyond?"

Iruka brushed it aside, his smile twitching back to life just a little. "You've got me in five. Please, the suspense is ruining my concentration."

"Well, ANBU Intelligence does report to me. Not that anyone in this village with the power of speech isn't talking about it. I suppose your own rather formidable network has given you the latest news."

Iruka made his move. What the hell?

"He eats dinner at night. I tend to do that, too. I think they're getting a little overexcited."

Sandaime took his bishop. Their eyes met. Iruka snickered.

An hour later, someone told him Kakashi was looking for a basket. Iruka beamed and said he probably had some sake somewhere. His heart was hammering with adrenaline as he took it out and left for Yondaime's head.

 

At least seven separate people stopped Kakashi on his way to the monument. Someone put _flowers_ in the basket while he was trying not to be killed by Naruto, who was evidently the only person in Konoha not dangling from the grapevine. Oh, well...

This was the least stealthy he'd ever felt in his life. He might as well be charging through the streets with a thousand chidori-wielding shadow-clones.

"You're LATE," announced some prodigy. "You's gonna get scowldedz!"

Which was just ridiculous, because there had never been a _time_ , and none of this was any more than hearsay, and Kakashi refused to hurry because he was never _on_ time anyway.

 

Iruka was already there, watching the sun dip towards the horizon, when Kakashi appeared. He'd been waiting exactly twenty-three minutes. How did the man manage to be late to an appointment without a timestamp? Maybe he'd been lurking.

All afternoon, he'd been bombarded with reports about what Kakashi was wearing, his mental and emotional state, rumours about his sexual practices—most of the those came from Anko, whom he intended to ignore, and had made him blush like a tomato—and the contents of the picnic basket swinging from the hand not holding a rather infamous little orange book. Not to mention, on his way up, being accosted by three vehemently traumatised Narutos, all jabbering at once.

"Right on time." Iruka smiled wickedly.

Kakashi stopped and blinked in total bewilderment. Iruka felt he had struck a small blow for ninja everywhere.

"I heard a rumour you might be here," Kakashi said once he'd recovered. "Also a rumour you might be hungry. And a rumour you thought pickled beets were gross. And that you'd make me find all the shuriken that disappeared into the bushes all around Konoha if I interrupted you. And that your hair was really a rocket launcher. And that you're mostly made out of parsnips."

"My hair is not weirder than yours," Iruka objected, "but pickled beets _are_ gross."

"Extremely. My father used to love them."

"Is there a connexion there?" Iruka asked.

"No, my dad was also the one who let me have pie all the time." Kakashi sat in a rock near Iruka's and set the basket down between them, feeling a little proud of himself for not twitching.

"I heard a rumour there was pie in there," Iruka said, slyly peeking into the basket. "Are those flowers?"

"Dessert is at the end, sensei!" gasped Kakashi in mock outrage, ignoring the bouquet. _Seriously_.

"My bad." Iruka smiled unrepentantly and produced two bottles of sake out of hammerspace in proper ninja fashion.

"Now, what else do you have in that basket?"

Kakashi smiled and set it on a flattish rock traditionally used for that purpose by generations of ninja and opened it with a flourish.

"Wow," Iruka had to admit. "I didn't think you knew how to cook."

There was a sharp snap. Iruka looked up. Apparently, it was Kakashi's foul little book. It was no longer in evidence.

"I can do a lot of things you don't expect," Kakashi said.

One corner of Iruka's mouth quirked upwards of its own volition.

"Are we going to eat sometime tonight?"

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. A challenge.

The spot was one used often for picnics. They sat cross-legged on either side of the low stone, which was large enough for a far larger spread than Kakashi's and scratched with ninja graffiti.

Iruka munched on something. He thought it was made entirely of carrots and celery. Twenty-two. He swallowed.

"You're really intimidated by the fact I'm a teacher, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Kakashi, if this food were any healthier, I'd be at a _spa_. I'm a guy; I survived last week on potato chips."

Kakashi took another bite without seeming to move his mask and looked like he'd been hit over the head. Again.

"Oh, thank god," he said finally.

"You haven't stalked me nearly as much as I thought."

Kakashi shrugged. "It's hard to stalk a man when an entire village of ninja is watching you."

"And you let that stop you?" Iruka may have _tsk_ ed. He'd had a couple of drinks of sake by that point, and as the dimming view over Konoha sparkled to night-life, a warm tranquillity spread outwards through his veins.

"Well," Kakashi poured them each another drink and raised his in a toast, "as I tell Naruto, one must look underneath the underneath."

"I'm not sure it counts as stalking if you're actually talking to me," Iruka observed, raising his own. Ninja learned quickly to either hold their alcohol or get good at pretending to drink.

"Amateurs stalk. Ninja employ many forms of reconnaissance."

"Ooh, someone was paying attention to his lessons." Iruka eyed the pie with mounting consideration.

"What Ishiwaka-sensei teaches—"

"—you remember. True. He beat that into my hide often enough. I can't deny it's made my lesson plans easier. Hm."

Casually, he shied a rock at a watcher in the trees (thankfully out of earshot). He'd really been expecting more of them. The gossips had been involved up to this point; it was unrealistic to expect them to butt out now. Still, they were ninja: he expected a certain amount of professionalism.

Kakashi quirked his eyebrow. "We could make a sport of that."

"Oh, don't spoil their fun. We'll ditch them after pie."

"What would we possibly want to hide from them?" Kakashi asked, leaning across their improvised table on one elbow.

Iruka knocked it out from under him, which produced a few moments of entertaining flailing.

"Pie first," he insisted.

A slice of pie materialised in front of Iruka. He'd been smiling all night; he'd tried to dial it down to a self-confidant smirk, but he had a feeling the way his face heated at Kakshi's innuendo was giving him the lie.

Iruka watched in fascination as a third of a face-sized slice of pie disappeared. He couldn't even see Kakashi taking the bite. One second he was raising the slice to his mouth; the next he was chewing and brushing crumbs off his mask.

"Your dad gave you pie?"

"Mom always said it would ruin my teeth."

"At last, the great mystery of the mask, revealed!" Iruka joked.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much _does_ this bother you?" Kakashi gestured to his mask.

Iruka's smile became beatific. "On the contrary, I enjoy looking underneath the underneath."

"..." Kakashi squinted at him. "You're evading the question."

Iruka took a very innocent bite of pie. Cherry. He should have guessed. Kakashi was unable to suppress a snicker. Iruka very deliberately licked his lips and took another bite.

It was good pie, too.

By the time they finished the pie and the sake, the sun was dipping below the horizon. It tinted Kakashi's hair and made it hard to tell for sure whether what was visible of the pale skin of his face was flushed, but Iruka thought it might be, just a little.

 

Kakashi found himself watching the shadows on Iruka's face. His eyelashes merged with the ones in the hollows of his eyes, detaching like little crescents of darkness when he blinked. The one cast by his nose made his face asymmetrical, and there were faint ones below his cheekbones, like war-paint. Once again, Kakashi felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

 

Iruka caught him staring and he blushed—wait, _what?_ That wasn't right. Time to put this back on _his_ footing.

"Would you like to formulate a plan, or shall we improvise?" Kakashi jerked his head towards their uninvited chaperones.

Iruka _grinned_ at him again, with what Kakashi was starting to identify as a challenge and said, "Improvising works for me. You got the basket?"

 

He _would_ insist.

"Why not?"

"Good."

Iruka flickered out of sight.

 _Bastard—!_ Kakashi scrambled with all his speed to cram everything back into the basket and leap after him. _We'll see about_ that.

There was a satisfying rustling commotion in the trees. One or two might follow him, but he was close enough behind Iruka he could mess them around without losing his mark. Anyway, he had a fair idea where Iruka was headed.

The rush of adrenaline and night air cleared some of the fuzz from Kakashi's brain. This was turning out to be a lot of fun. Iruka was making Kakashi _chase_ him. It was great.

Kakashi sprang from rooftop to rooftop, keeping assassin-like to the shadows. Pursuit was still lagging badly.

Kakashi caught up with his target in an alley where the roofs were too exposed for stealth. Swooping down, he pressed Iruka up against a wall, pulled down his mask, and kissed him.

"Your place or mine?" Kakashi asked in a husky voice, a little out of breath. Iruka must have recognised him some how because his reflexive struggle wasn't nearly so forceful as it should have been, and he'd stopped halfway reaching for his kunai.

"You like being kissed in dark alleys by strange men?"

"You _are_ very, very strange," Iruka agreed.

A cry of pursuit sounded nearby.

"My place is closer. And deal with the crashers as punishment for resorting to cliché."

Iruka's smile was _vicious_ , and Kakashi had never realised how sexy that was before. And _Iruka_ had stalked him enough to know where his apartment was. As he jumped back up to the moon-lighted rooftops, he pulled his mask back up over a decidedly goofy grin.

 

Reaching his door first, Iruka had only a brief moment to panic about procrastinated dishes and underwear on the floor before he heard a tapping at his bedroom window.

The image of Kakashi clinging limpet-like to his half-inch thick window sill was so excellent, Iruka was tempted to leave him there. But, really. The man had brought him pie. And his first balanced meal in a week and a half.

"I have a front door, you know," he remarked as he unlatched the window and slid it open.

"But what would people say?" Kakashi asked, slipping in and landing well inside Iruka's personal bubble. "Besides, this is more direct."

"You, direct, Kakashi?" Iruka said sceptically.

"Unpredictability is a ninja's greatest weapon,." Kakashi goosed him.

"I knew you were going to do that."

"So do yoummf—"

Iruka pulled down Kakashi's mask and kissed him. Harder, deeper than in the alley.

He chased the lingering taste of thick cherry syrup through Kakashi's mouth. His lips were soft, protected by the mask. Iruka's tongue detected what must have been a scar across his bottom lip, continuing down towards his chin.

When Kakashi planted his other hand firmly on his ass, Iruka couldn't help but smile. His own were bunched in Kakashi's vest.

There was far, far too much clothing in the way. Iruka wasn't usually this slutty on the first date, but right now it seemed about the best idea ever.

He jerked the zipper on Kakashi's vest open roughly and tried to slide it off, unsuccessfully.

"Move your arms," Iruka panted.

"Nuh," Kakashi replied, reluctant to remove his tongue from Iruka's mouth. "I think I'm in love with your ass."

"It'll like you better _naked_ ," Iruka grumbled indistinctly. "Little help here?"

He finally convinced Kakshi to relax his grip. As soon as his arms were down, Iruka pushed the vest off the rest of the way and seized his opportunity to get rid of his turtleneck too, bullying Kakashi back towards the bed while he was at it.

Kakashi latched onto his mouth again, a wet, dirty kiss that didn't let up until Kakashi backed into the bed and Iruka pushed him onto it. The springs groaned a little at the double weight, but Iruka was more concerned with Kakashi's long, dexterous fingers. They found his ass again and wandered up under his own vest.

Up, up they crept, perilously close to tickling, to tease at his nipples through his shirt. Iruka forgot momentarily about his planned assault on Kakashi's pants.

"What do you think, should I leave this on?" Kakashi asked with a sly smile.

His mouth was wide and mobile. The scar Iruka had encountered earlier reached only halfway to his chin, and there was another one over his sharingan on the other side of his face.

"Take off—ah!—anything you like." Iruka made an effort at a leer.

Leaning down closer to make a try at the mask still slack around Kakashi's neck, he found himself halted halfway by a firm grip on his ribs. Kakashi, with a mischievous grin, pulled himself up, and set his teeth to Iruka's zipper pull.

Iruka shivered as he felt more than heard it coming undone. Fucking _flexible_ was what, and he was suddenly aware of how turned on he was. Not that that was something either of them could have missed with Iruka straddling Kakashi's lap.

Kakashi's erection was hot even through two sets of uniform trousers. Kakashi himself was like a furnace once they were finally skin-to-skin. Iruka fell on his mouth hungrily.

He traced the moving muscles of Kakashi's arms to his exploring hands and stripped off the half-gloves. He dragged the thrice-damned mask the rest of the way off at last and started on Kakashi's belt.

"You are _focussed_ ," Kakashi observed, yanking him down and biting his neck.

"Oh, I wanna fuck you so bad," he panted.

Kakashi moaned.

"I'm good with that."

"Pa- _pants_ ," Iruka gasped out. A hand had crept around and found that _spot_ on his back. His brain was disintegrating. "I'm never letting you out of this bed. _Mngh_."

Kakashi kissed him, smirking, and bit lingeringly on his lower lip. He had absolutely no trouble rolling Iruka onto his back.

"Hph?" he asked in confusion when the massaging stopped.

Kakashi snickered. Iruka found out quickly enough where his other hand had disappeared.

The bandaging around his right thigh came abruptly loose. If he'd had a functional brain, he'd have recognised the motions of sheathing a kunai before his belt came undone and his trousers started coming off. Oh, _finally_. Iruka _mm_ ed approval.

Kakashi nipped his way down Iruka's bare chest, fingernails scraping lightly as he pushed down underwear and trousers. His mouth detoured from Iruka's stomach to his hip, leaving his erection straining against nothing but the slightest draft coming through the open window.

A tongue flicked out to lick the crease of hip and thigh. Iruka's hands, which had been left with nowhere else to go, buried themselves in Kakashi's hair.

Kakashi's hands— _big_ hands—slid back up his legs, up his chest, teasing his cock with only the lightest, accidental touches as he made his way along Iruka's body. Iruka grunted and pulled him down, grinding their hips together.

"Fffuck," Kakashi gasped into his mouth. Iruka rolled his hips again, running his hands down Kakashi's sides.

" 'S more or less what I had in mind." Iruka ran his hands down the back of Kakashi's pants.

"Nnh," Kakashi said vehemently, biting underneath his jaw.

"K- _unh_ -shi," Iruka's protest was a little slurred. Kakashi was straddling _him_ now, which made removing his _pants_ no easier, and oh, _fuck_ , the way he was still sucking at his neck was not helping Iruka's concentration.

Kakashi thrust, rubbing their erections together. Iruka's fumbling became more urgent.

"...feel you _in_ me, Iruka," Kakashi breathed into his skin.

"Three Buddhas and a monkey, will you get these things _off_?" Iruka all but wailed.

Kakashi gave his neck a final lick before shimmying out of the offending garment.

"You were right," Kakashi admitted, "this is much better. Do you have—"

"Here."

Iruka stretched to reach the lube in his nightstand.

"The rumours were right. You _are_ well-prepared."

"Be _lieve_ it," Iruka growled and flipped Kakashi on his back.

"You did _not_ jusssoh," Kakashi's objection trailed off. Iruka wiggled his finger again.

"Tight, Kakashi. I'm surprised," Iruka teased.

"I read porn all the time; I don't walk around with a dildo up my ass. Hurry _up_."

Iruka added another finger, choking. "Now _there's_ a picture."

"Fuck," Kakashi gasped. "Just like that."

Iruka bit his lip. Then he bit Kakashi's lip, which was much more to the point. It took all his self-restraint not to pound Kakashi through the mattress right then and there. Iruka settled for ravishing his mouth and patiently slipped in a third finger.

Kakashi was moaning into his mouth. Sharp teeth nipped impatiently at his lips.

"Gryah," Iruka said articulately and fumbled his hands free to hurriedly slick his cock.

The first push in left them both gasping. Iruka paused with just the head of his cock sunk in that mind-bending tightness to get himself under control. He moved his hips slowly forward, breathing heavily. Kakashi's right eye fluttered open and closed. He was in the process of wrapping himself around Iruka, long legs doing their best to tangle and fingers digging deeply into his muscled back.

He dug the fingers of one hand into the meaty part of Kakashi's thigh, just below his ass—well, where Kakashi's ass would be if he actually _had_ an ass. Iruka pulled it up as he thrust in and was rewarded with a loud, incoherent string of vowels.

The leg hooked over his hip, and he resolved that next time, he was going to find out how flexible Kakashi was. Right now, Iruka was concentrating on the sweat-damp scent of the hair behind his ear, faintly salty taste of the skin there, the way it gave beneath his teeth, and. _Ohfuck_. The feel of Kakashi's body tight around him, pushing back into his thrusts.

The bed frame was slamming into the wall now. Another wonderful thing about ninja villages: triple insulation. Being killed by one's neighbours was a genuine concern.

Kakashi gripped the headboard, arching so his cock brushed Iruka's stomach. Iruka took it in the hand that wasn't supporting his weight and wondered of he'd left marks on Kakashi's flushed skin. He hoped so. There was definitely going to be one by his ear.

Iruka was shaking. He felt like flames should be rising off him in waves, pounding into Kakashi like he could actually nail him through the mattress.

Kakashi's breath was loud and ragged near his ear, interspersed with strings of nonsense urging him on, _harder_ , faster. The sound of his own name in that raspy voice was steadily becoming too much.

Iruka was dimly aware of making sounds of his own, half-muffled; of hard flesh under his hand, there and gone in increasingly jerky sequence.

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh just—"

—and he _clenched_ and _writhed_ , dragging Iruka after him into a white light that hit like a load of bricks.

Iruka collapsed slowly, ears ringing while his blood flow rearranged itself, slipping out of Kakashi's body.

A sultry look transfixed him as Kakashi stretched in a vertebrae-cracking arc before finally releasing the sturdy wrought-iron headboard.

"Nguh," Iruka articulated, unable to resist Kakshi's sprawl, half-atop him.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I got rid of them?" Kakashi prompted.

"Hrrnh?" Iruka asked. "In ninja-like fashion of szz...s'perior stealth, 'sume."

"Nnno, better. Gai. Not gonna be challenging for a while." Snicker.

"Mmnhmhm. Who?"

"Ebisu."

Iruka snorted half-heartedly and closed his eyes. " 'slent."


End file.
